


How to Lose Everyone (And Maybe Fall in Love in the Process?)

by The_Nacho_Stand



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, BAMF Loki (Marvel), Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Has Issues, Hurt, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, M/M, Sickfic, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Tony Whump, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Whump, as you can tell theres gonna be a lotta angst, eventually kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22474459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Nacho_Stand/pseuds/The_Nacho_Stand
Summary: “Maybe if I actually gave a shit, I would stay a bit longer and even get to know you guys. But I don’t,” says Stark, taking off his sunglasses and wiping them with his white dress shirt even though they were already clean. He looks up at the members gathered around his living room, grabs his cold coffee, and leaves.Leave it to Tony to fuck up, get wasted, get sick, refuse help, and all of the above. Need help ruining your life? Tony's your guy. Then again, he does have a knack for fixing things. Until he falls in love just a tiny bit with a reluctant god. 'Course, Loki doesn't even like him back, but who the hell is gonna stop him from being a desperate little shit?
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	How to Lose Everyone (And Maybe Fall in Love in the Process?)

“Am I a murderer?” Asks Tony casually one night. He doesn’t know if it’s the liquor or if it’s the fact that it’s his parents’ deaths’ anniversary, or if he’s genuinely curious.

“In short, yes. But I do suspect that the term ‘murderer’ is too broad for an answer you might be looking for.” says Jarvis.

Tony sighs and leans back in his chair, stretching. Days in the lab, especially when they were _consecutive days_ , were getting harder. 

“I love it when you get all philosophical on me, J. Really, I do.”

“Your tone of voice suggests otherwise,” Jarvis replies dryly.

“The point _is_ , J, is that I kill. It’s what I’m good at.” Jarvis doesn’t respond and Tony glares at no particular point in the wall. He grabs the bottle of vodka, not usually his thing, and takes a sip. His mouth curls downwards at the taste, but he washes it away with even more of it. Soon enough, the bottle is gone. He slumps, places his pounding head onto the cool metal table and wishes the memories away. His eyes flutter closed.

“I recommend sleeping in a bed,” Jarvis notes.

Tony snorts. “No fucking shit.” He falls asleep there anyways.

* * *

Rhodey’s jaw is clenched. “Tony, you’re not doing okay, you need help. You _need_ me to help.”

Tony closes his eyes in frustration before opening them again, glaring at the broken glass on his pristine sparkling white floor. His formal suit is tattered, stained with alcohol, and there are smudges of oil and grease… everywhere. His hair is clumped together in some parts from the residue, put in place of his habit of constantly running his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t need help.”

“ _Yes_ , you do. You know I’m always there for you, why don’t you ever give me a call when you need me?”

Tony raises his glare to look at his best friend in the eyes. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone, that’s the fucking point, Rhodes,” He rubs at the bandages wrapping his hand, covering a large red gash that he had been staring at before Jarvis had called Rhodey. “You think I’m some kind of weak, _pathetic_ person that needs constant looking after, well I’m not, I don’t need your pity.”

Tony immediately knows he’s gone too far, he’s overstepped the line, he’s broken it all and- Rhodey nods curtly, a storm behind his eyes. “If that’s the way you want to feel about all the years I’ve spent taking care of your _bullshit_ and sticking out the tough times with you, I can’t help that.”

When Rhodey leaves, Tony’s left with his hands shaking and feeling a cold he hasn’t felt since Afghanistan. He supposes he brought it upon himself. With that, he stumbles over to his liquor cabinet and takes out a new bottle. His headache from the first drink hasn’t even worn off.

* * *

  
  


“You have no regard for other people besides yourself.” Steve looks at Tony in muted disgust. As if this was his first time realizing that shit. 

Tony snorts. “Just noticed?” He then turns around in his seat on the couch so he’s not facing Steve anymore and snuggles into the cushions. He closes his eyes. Might as well try and be relaxed before the team leader starts bashing him for what happened that mission.

Tony can tell Steve is pursing his lips in annoyance. “You could have apologized, Stark. You could have lived up to what you did but instead, you didn’t even bother showing up at the conference.”

Tony feels his frustration building up like a volcano inside of him. “I was doing just _fine_ until you pulled me out of the fight.”

“You were _intoxicated_! Lives were at stake, you could have killed someone!” 

Tony whirls around and looks Steve in the eyes, the moment of peace broken. “I could have _saved_ someone too, but because of _you_ they fucking _died_.”

Steve’s jaw is clenched. “Don’t put that on me, Stark. I did what I had to do because you could have endangered even more citizens.” When Tony doesn’t respond, Steve continues. “You were even reckless enough to leave your teammate wide open when you were supposed to be in position. Clint is in the hospital, and you can’t spare the decency to feel ashamed.”

“I left to save the fucking child, Rogers!” Tony’s eyes are wild. “How old was she? Six, at most? She fucking died, because of you! Don’t you feel any sense of guilt as well? How can you fucking live with yourself? What’s your god damn secret!?”

“She didn’t die because of me. I was there to help prevent her death, and if I wasn’t, she would have died all the same. I’ve learned to forgive myself, Tony, maybe you should do the same.” Steve replies with so much composure that Tony’s hands shake with frustration. How can someone be so calm when he feels like he’s fucking dying inside? “There are always going to be casualties. My days in the military have taught me that. They don’t get less sad with each one, but you have to learn to accept that it is what it is.”

“You- I- _fuck_ \- _someone_ could have saved her. _I_ could have saved her, and I didn’t, because you fucking stopped me, and that’s when she fell. You- you- _fuck_!” Tony cuts himself off, head in his hands, trying to level his breathing. “I can’t fucking live like this anymore,” he mutters, closing his eyes.

* * *

“Sir, you have reached a dangerous level of intoxication, you _must_ stop drinking,” Jarvis says, but the words blur together in Tony’s mind. 

His parents. God, his parents. He wondered why their deaths were hitting him so hard after all these years. Granted, he had drunk himself into a stupor during their anniversaries each year, but it had never gone on longer than half a week. He shut his eyes tightly when he remembered his mother, sweet, loving, mother, getting ready to go out. She was… she wasn’t always there for him. But the times when she was, they were the best moments of his life. Her adoring smile, the way her eyes crinkled, when she pulled him close for a tight hug, holding him, so tight, _god_. It was like everything fit together. Everything was just _better_.

He could care less about his father. The loss had hit him, his whole family dead in a matter of minutes, but he was glad to not be backhanded across the face anymore whenever he spoke up. That was one small twinge of comfort he found during these times.

“... up! Tony, get up!” Tony’s eyes fluttered open in confusion, landing on a familiar face.

“... Pep?” His words sound sloppy, even to his addled mind. “Pep? … What?”

Pepper sighs, her long hair framing her face, eyes weary with fatigue. “Let’s get you to bed. Come on,” she says as if coaxing a child to take some medicine.

Tony shakes his head slowly. “Don’t need y’r help,” he slurs, pushing her away. Then pauses, trying to think of something, but his head hurts too much to think. “Why..? Din’t call you?” He phrases it as a question, not really sure if he _did_ call her or not.

“Jarvis called me. You’ve been drinking too much again. I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone this time of year.”

“S’fine… you have better,” he waves his hands around, “to do anyway,” he finishes lamely.

Pepper frowns, and god, under the light she is so beautiful, the way her cheeks are partly flushed, lips a gorgeous shade of red, hair falling perfectly past her shoulders. “No, it’s not fine. I shouldn’t have forgotten. And besides, you’re curled up next to your robot and drinking straight from a bottle, I think it’s my responsibility to look after you when no one else is.”

“S’not like we… anyways, right?” Pepper gives Tony an unimpressed look, telling him that she didn’t understand a thing he said. “like… it’s not- serious,” he explains, head buzzing. He doesn’t register her expression.

“We’re not serious?” Pepper’s voice sounds hurt.

Tony blinks, surprised. “Money,” he blurts. “Sex? Relations, opportunities-”

“Stop!” Pepper looks furious. “You think I would hang onto you for your _money_? Or _sex_ or to climb the damn _social ladder_? Is that what you’ve been thinking of me this whole time?”

Tony doesn’t respond, and Pepper huffs. “You think I’m lower than you, don’t you? I’m just one of _those_ girls, hit and ditch. Well, fine. If that’s how you want to play, Tony, _I’ll_ be the one ditching you first.” She gets up and collects her handbag from off the floor. “See you around.” Her words are tense.

It takes a few seconds for the words to process in his head, but when he focuses enough to begin a reply, she’s out of his lab already.

* * *

Tony wakes up with one of the worst headaches of his _life._ His skull is pounding, he hasn’t eaten food in like a week- most likely longer- and hadn’t even noticed, and the only times he slept was when he drank himself to the edge. He definitely feels it now.

There’s a sick white-hot heat that seems to consume him, but soon after there are flashes of freezing, icy cold, making him shiver and close in on himself for warmth, only to feel the bursts of sudden heat that makes him pull at his gray dress shirt in an attempt to cool down, to find a balance, but there’s none and everything hurts and everything’s sore. For a brief second, he wonders why Jarvis wasn’t calling someone or berating him for not taking care of himself until he remembers that he had shut down the system temporarily after Pepper had left. A wave of guilt hits him until he can’t feel anything but his head throbbing anymore, so he just sits on the floor of his workshop, head in his hands, biting back whimpers.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but he’s drifting in and out of consciousness. After a while, he tries to stand up, knees shaky. The ground seems too far away.

He stumbles over to his desk, holding onto it for support and knocking down DUM-E in the process. He takes one look at the robot he’s had for _years,_ in parts on the ground, and he throws up. 

The next moments happen in a blur, him stumbling to the elevator and praying the others won’t see him like this even though they’ve probably seen worse. He doesn’t want to be in the same room as DUM-E’s broken parts. He doesn’t bother to take off his filthy clothes when he reaches his room, too exhausted to stand, much less to undress. He falls into the bed, too hot and too cold at the same time.


End file.
